Set the World on Fire
by Tenpouin Yuuki
Summary: A serial killer - who kills other serial killers, leaving a popular piece of classical music playing at each crime scene. The city hails the mysterious "Devil" as a hero, but the police department is determined to catch him at any cost. PLEASE LISTEN TO TIPPER'S ILLABYE FOR MORE ENHANCED EXPERIENCE WITH THE STORY
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Owned by the one and only Akira Amano.

**Author's note: **Nothing. Bleh :p

Finally~! I had the chance to write a bad-ass!Tsuna wohooo! *throws confetti* but remember to go easy on me! I'm new to this genre T-T

I need a beta…! The spelling and grammatical mistakes are getting into my nerves! I can't help it, English is not my native language.

**PLEASE LISTEN TO ****TIPPER'S ILLABYE** ( the song used in one of the episodes of Criminal Minds) **for more chilling experience. Trust me, it adds creepiness to the story..**

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**Set the World on Fire**

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**Chapter 1**

Bathed in the soft warm glow of the setting sun, the man suddenly knew he was destined to die by the end of the night. The harsh ropes burned relentlessly across his wrists as he struggled in one final futile attempt to free his hands, adding on to the ugly rope burns that marred his skin.

A shadow fell across the doorway of the room he was in. A foot fall, and then silence.

The Devil had returned.

Like a rabbit caught in a deadly trap, he struggled even more desperately, kicking and yelling bloody murder, rocking the chair he was tied to back and forth. But it was useless – that extra burst of energy wasn't going to get him anywhere, especially not when the ropes were triple knotted, with an _extra_ layer of cord tied around them.

As the man continued his pitiful attempt at escape, the Devil waltzed nearly effortlessly across the room to the antique gramophone nearby, and caressed it lovingly before putting a record on play.

Silence at first – then the old gramophone got to work, resurrecting the long forgotten piece that was embedded within the record. Siren strains of classical music wafted from the gramophone head, shrouding the room in an ephemeral cloak of nostalgia. The bound man exerted even more effort, eyes wide with pure undiluted fear as the soothing classical music surrounded him.

The Devil started to move in towards him.

The bound man was nearly sobbing now, his entire frame spasming as his bloodied wrists scraped uselessly against the crimson stained rope.

"I'm sorry, I really am! I know what I did wrong, I won't do it again, she was the last one, I didn't even hurt them that much! I won't ever do it again, please you can watch me, see that I'm not lying, just don't kill me PLEASE!" he begged as the Devil finally reached him.

"Shhh….." the Devil murmured, leaning in close to the man, like a mother comforting her distressed child.

Soft whispers, low murmurs, hushed words…and then their little tête-à-tête was done.

The bound man was still sobbing, but this time with relief. The first thing he would do when he completed his end of the deal was to get out of this damn town, find some remote country house and stay there for the rest of his life. Get a shotgun, rear livestock, watch TV – that was the ONLY thing he was ever going to -

As the hypodermic syringe emptied its contents into the man's thigh, the Devil smiled.

The stage was set.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Owned by the one and only Akira Amano.

**Author's note: Nothing. Bleh :p**

**Finally~! I had the chance to write a bad-ass!Tsuna wohooo! *throws confetti* but remember to go easy on me! I'm new to this genre T-T**

**I need a beta…! The spelling and grammatical mistakes are getting into my nerves! I can't help it, English is not my native language.**

Aaaaah~! I forgot this fic is set on AU/OOC..gets?!

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**Set the World on Fire**

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**Chapter 2**

Sawada Tsunayoshi was not a happy man.

For one thing, the coffee maker was broken. He knew the girl was getting old, but he didn't think she would expire THAT quickly. It seemed like he would have to go without his caffeine this morning.

Sighing in resignation, he stood in front of the mirror and brushed his hair, looking at the fair weathered face in front him, the doe-like eyes that sparkled back, dirty brunet tousled hair that was now being tugged unwillingly into neat strands. The same brunet hair that Kyoko had once playfully tugged at…until the divorce.

Tsuna stopped combing and gripped the sides of the dresser with unneeded force. Thinking about the divorce made his heart tug painfully, his palms sweaty, his mind spin with rage while he fought to calm down and regain control – but it was normally the rage that won. In the days following the divorce, he could get so angry just thinking about it that the red mist would start to cloud his vision.

Then he found his therapeutic way of handling it, and all was fine.

Tsuna slowly counted to 10 and released the dresser, taking short breaths. As long as he didn't think about it, he was going to be okay.

Glancing away from the mirror, he surveyed his living room: clothes strewn everywhere, last night's dinner plates lying unwashed and dirty on the table, books and video tapes scattered on the ground, the fallen soldiers of a battlefield. In short, ordered pandemonium.

Then the postcard caught his eye.

There it lay, miraculously alone in a small corner of the dinner table, facing up. It was a small, neat card that looked like one of those typical cheap greeting cards you could buy at the nearest gift shop. And yet, Tsuna was intrigued by it. Somehow it felt…strange. Out of place. Like it didn't belong there.

He picked it up, feeling the smooth material and rubbing it between his fingers. Then he saw the photo on it, and knew at once that this was no typical holiday greeting.

A young woman – in her early twenties, by the look of her – was staring back at him, a rather queer expression on her face. She was rather pretty, but in a washed out, weary way, as though she had seen too much of life. Tsuna thought that at one point she must have been quite the beauty. Not a true Aphrodite of course, but still enough to make heads turn when she walked by. The woman in the picture though was no indication of this. Her red-rimmed eyes did little to accentuate any beauty she had left, her hollow cheeks giving her a rather gaunt and wasted look. Her lips, smeared in a rogueish way with cheap lipstick, only served to complete the picture of an unfortunate woman who had fallen on hard times. The woman wasn't smiling in the picture, but neither was she frowning. She just looked vaguely puzzled, with the slightest hint of being disturbed. If whoever had taken the photo was aiming for a candid shot, they had accomplished it perfectly.

As Tsuna continued staring at the strange woman, his mind began to clear – and he suddenly remembered why she looked so familiar. Last night…after he had dropped off Mira at the music store…the woman had stumbled up to his car in a drunken stupor. She had a flirty look plastered on her face, her hair frizzled and dirty as she leaned in through the car window, teasingly inviting him to open the door.

Tsuna didn't like prostitutes…not in his line of work as a police detective. But the night was young, and when he reached home it was not as if he had anything else to do…

So she had gotten in, and that was that.

Strangely enough, the clearest thing he remembered about the scene was not the woman, but what was playing when he met her. Mira had just entered the music store, and it was playing one of those classical pieces…something light and floaty, soothing and calm. He was sure he had heard it before, but he just couldn't remember its name.

Sighing, he flipped the postcard around, and got the second shock of the day. Two lines were elegantly written in dark expensive ink on the back of the card.

He read them, and then read them again. But no matter how many times he read those two innocuous little lines, there was no hidden meaning behind this cryptic message.

_Is this about God?_

…_.or maybe it's about the Devil?_

A dead end, then. He would figure it out later.

His cellphone rang at that moment, startling him out of his reverie. Apparently Mira was on the line.

"Hello, Tsuna? You up? Get down to the precinct, there's been another murder; the Chief wants us on it."

"Let me guess….the Devil again?" he replied."Bingo. But this one's special…or so they say. Anyway, get down here quickly. You know how the traffic's like in the morning."

"Sure thing kiddo. See ya." Tsuna hung up and sighed for the third time that morning. This was one of the most hectic periods in his entire career. At least it helped him to take his mind off Tessa…

He tucked the postcard into his pocket, grabbed his jacket, and made his way to the front door, only pausing to stare at the door that led to the **basement**. The lock was **still secure**, which was a relief.

Humming a little tune, Detective Tsuna Sawada left his home, unaware that in a few hours' time everything he knew would change forever.

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**About the title? **Yeah~ it was inspired by **Black Veil Brides' album** under the same name.. can't help it.. I'm totally addicted to that band..

**I LOVE ANDY SIXX! I LOVE BLACK VEIL BRIDES!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Owned by the one and only Akira Amano.

**Author's note: Nothing. Bleh :p**

**I need a beta…! The spelling and grammatical mistakes are getting into my nerves! I can't help it, English is not my native language.**

Aaaaah~! I forgot this fic is set on AU/OC/OOC..gets?!

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**Set the World on Fire**

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**Chapter 3**

"Let's go over this again." The unhappy man said.

"Sure, what do you want to review?" the brunette woman replied.

Tsuna turned in his seat and looked Mira straight in the eye.

"Everything."

"If you say so, Mr. Big Bossman," Mira stated matter-of-factly. That was one thing about Mira Saint-Claire that Tsuna liked, she could say the strangest, funniest, or most bizarre of things without even batting an eyelash. He wondered if being a detective for eight years could do that to you, and asked himself if he was going to be like her three years from now. Regardless, Mira was an efficient partner – always had been – and both trusted each other completely. They were quite literally the dream team in the precinct, and every officer with lofty aspirations to detective rank knew their names.

As Tsuna expertly maneuvered the car down the street, Mira flipped open her case file and took a deep breath.

_Here we go_, he thought.

"His first kill was 5 weeks ago – in a small dingy flat downtown. Victim was Tetsuya Kusakabe, 28, a childcare assistant at the local childcare center. He died of a clean gunshot wound to the temple. No other marks were found, except burn marks around his wrists, where our perp apparently bound him." She intoned.

"Skip to the good part, Mira." Tsuna grunted.

"Patience, my child. Ah – here we are. When police searched Kusakabe's apartment, they found numerous articles about mysterious deaths in various childcare centers he had worked in – they were apparently all given overdoses of sleeping pills. When they did a bit more research, as well as a thorough sweep of the house…they came to the conclusion that Kusakabe had killed them all. He was a serial killer, moving from district to district and murdering children with the same M.O."

"And the music…."

"Yes, the music. When Kusakabe was found dead, a piece of classical music was playing from his stereo at the time. Franz Liszt's Liebestraum Number 3. A dreamy, surreal piece…" Mira's voice grew hushed.

"Just like how Kusakabe must have thought the children died, in their sleep, in their dreams," Tsuna finished her sentence.

"Well I don't know about you, but that's twisted." Mira drew her coat closer to herself and stared out the window. The previously azure blue sky was now turning an overcast grey, an ominous foreshadowing of the place they were headed to. She shuddered.

"Skip to the third victim." Tsuna narrowed his eyes as he made a tricky turn around the junction. It looked like they were almost there.

"Okay…vic number three. Ken Chikusa, aka the Spotlight Slayer. This was the guy that caused so much trouble back in October… the one that went around shooting people in public places. Our profilers profiled him as a narcissist that wanted all the attention from the media and fear from the public, which was exactly what he got. But the police still couldn't catch him, until – "

"- the Devil did." Tsuna murmured.

She nodded. "Found dead in his apartment again, same M.O : Single clean gunshot wound to the temple, more evidence in his house pointing to him being the Spotlight Slayer, as well as Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto Number One playing on his computer. That was when the psych analysts saw the connection – the Devil plays classical pieces corresponding to the nature of the crimes, or the nature of the killer. In this case, the Slayer was a grandiose, over the top man who wanted attention so badly he would kill to get it. Tchaikovsky's piece is the same – grand, big, extravagant, blown up. At least it is in the beginning, anyway." Mira concluded.

"Since when did the media start calling our guy the Devil?" Tsuna asked.

"Not sure. Since the second murder I guess? They thought someone who preyed on serial killers was worthy of that title. Ironic really, since most of the city actually PRAISED his actions – cleaning up the garbage, they said." Mira shook her head in apparent disgust.

Tsuna thought she had every right to think that way. Whoever the Devil was – a vigilante, a deluded being who thought he was doing humanity a favour – he had no right to kill someone else. If anything, he was just as bad as the serial killers he murdered. And yet, nearly half of the city was in awe of him. Internet forums, chat rooms, and social networking platforms – everyone was talking about him, and many were praising him. It was kind of sick, the way so many people were clamoring over a killer of killers.

_What a twisted society we live in_, Tsuna thought. He made another right turn, and saw that they had arrived.

"So what's so unusual about this latest murder?" he asked Mira as the car slowly halted.

"Apparently the Devil…made a mistake." She gathered all her notes and unbuckled her seat belt before getting out of the car. He quickly followed suit.

"How so?"

"He left our latest victim alive." Mira replied in her usual matter-of-fact tone, and looked up at the sky again.

Tsuna didn't need to. He felt the light pitter patter of the raindrops that fell down, felt them gently caress his face and soothe his soul somewhat. Tears of the angels of God, was what his grandmother always said.

_I'll need more than their tears to crack this case…I'll need_God himself, he thought whimsically to himself, before turning and following Mira into the house nearby, and beginning his descent into Hell – where the Devil awaited.

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**Oya~! Can you guess who is the DEVIL? There is a poll in my profile for the Devil in this Fic.. Click now and vote.**

**I made a mistake so I just have to revise the upcoming chapters… damn, my idiotic mind..**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Owned by the one and only Akira Amano.

**Author's note: Nothing. Bleh :p**

**I need a beta…! The spelling and grammatical mistakes are getting into my nerves! I can't help it, English is not my native language.**

Aaaaah~! I forgot this fic is set on AU/OC/OOC..gets?!

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**Set the World on Fire**

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**Chapter 4**

The first thing he noticed about the house was that it was dark – very dark. He could barely see Mira ahead of him, who seemed to be navigating the stifling cloak without much difficulty, which was a surprise. Carrots, he thought. It had to be the carrots.

Tsuna made his way forward one painful footstep at a time. Although he would not admit it, it was horribly uncomfortable to not know the way forward. One misstep, one wrong turn – and pain would be his eager companion. He wondered if the latest victim had been chased by the Devil in such agonizing darkness. It must have been absolutely terrifying, stumbling into such an abyssal chasm while a crazed killer was stalking you from behind.

Finally, Mira paused at what seemed to be a wall. She grasped something on it, and swung it open.

To his utter relief, warm soothing light flooded out of the room and into the hallway, dispelling all shadows that dared to linger in its presence. Mira looked at him, raised an eyebrow at Tsuna and went in.

Tsuna treaded in lightly, unsure of what to expect. Maybe it would be a nice, clean normal room, the kind of cozy bedroom that everyone lived in when they were kids, the kind that you came home to everyday after work and your wife was there (_STOP THINKING ABOUT IT DAMNIT),_the kind that your parents would sit in, watch TV and smile when you came in…..

No such luck.

Even if Tsuna had wanted to describe the wallpaper of the room he had just entered, he couldn't. Every inch of the walls of the room had been plastered by printed out faces of people – young, old, black, white, male, female – all of them filled the four walls like a collage and stared out. Despite the difference in their facial features, all of them had one thing in common – every single face was there showing fear.

Fear. Not the kind of fear that you get when you think you're going to fail a test, nor the kind of fear that spooks you when you watch a horror movie, but the kind of fear when you know, unerringly, without a doubt, that death is approaching. Some of the faces were crying, some were desperate, some pleading and some were downright screaming, their mouths forming frozen O's that would be immortalized on paper.

Tsuna felt sick.

Beside him, Mira was stunned into submission.

"Jesus…" she muttered. "Just how many people did this sick bastard kill?"

She pointed to the centre of the room, where a man sat in an antique wooden chair, slumped forward. His wrists were completely bound with tight rope, bloodied to shreds in his futile attempt to escape. He was not unconscious, Tsuna could see that, but neither was he fully functioning…

"Has forensics been here yet?" he questioned the policeman on guard standing in the corner of the room who was sweating bullets and looking awfully pale.

"Uh…no sir. They haven't been here yet." He replied, desperately trying to avoid looking at the macabre collage of faces behind Tsuna.

"Good, seems like we'll have some alone time with our little friend here. You can go now," he said in a kindly manner. Poor kid didn't need telling twice, he literally ran out of the room.

When he turned around, Mira was already attending to the bound man. She was talking to him, trying to make him answer coherently, but to no avail. The man seemed to be in a catatonic state, his cracked lips forming lines of gibberish. His eyes were glazed over, as though he was on some kind of drug that had rendered him into a zombie-like state.

Despite his seemingly poor condition, the man was miraculously still alive.

"Let me try," Tsuna said.

Mira stood back with a look of resignation on her face as Tsuna approached the bound man.

"Hey…you okay? Snap out of it!" Tsuna shook the man by the shoulders, to no effect. He didn't seem to be responding, they were going to have to transport him to a hospital before they could begin interrogating—

"…God?" a soft word, concealed within the strings of nonsense that was spewing forth from the man. Tsuna barely caught it.

"What?" he said, stepping closer. "What did you say?"

"….about God?" again, those words hid behind the wall of gibberish. Tsuna frowned in frustration and leaned in towards the man.

"What are you trying to say?" he whispered.

Then silence.

The bound man closed his mouth and completely stopped the deluge of words that had once poured out of that orifice. He stared back at Tsuna. Glazed eyes met sharp blue ones, twin windows of the soul exchanged contact, their twisted souls meeting and -

"Is this about God? …or maybe it's about the Devil?" the soft, clear words, unhindered and pristine, emerged from those cracked lips.

Tsuna froze.

"Is this about God? …or maybe it's about the Devil?" those terrible words came again.

Tsuna slowly backed away.

The bound man was still staring at him now, mumbling those same words faster and faster until they became incoherent.

"Is this about God? Or maybe it's about the Devil? Is this God? About theDevil?Isthisgodaboutthedevil?Godmaybeaboutthedevil?Devilmaybegodbutaboutdevilma ybedevilisgodgodisdevilmaybe -" the insane lines continued to spew forth, with the man getting more and more agitated.

Mira rushed forth to stop him, slap some sense into him, shake him by the shoulders, and make him STOP—

Clear, sweet music started to drift forth from a corner of the room. Tsuna turned, gasping at this sudden development.

An antique gramophone was suddenly playing its record, the record spinning round and round and round and round and round, all while that divine, light, floaty piece of classical music played, it was so good, so airy, so light, Tsuna felt like he was in heaven for a moment away from all this madness, all this insanity.

Then the illusion shattered as the terrible truth struck Tsuna.

The music that was playing from the gramophone was the same one he had heard at the music store last night.

"Mira," he turned, trembling in his own fear, "what is the name of this piece?"

Mira looked every bit as frightened as he was. She had stopped trying to calm the bound man down – she didn't need to – he was slumped forward again. Tsuna instantaneously knew that the man was already dead. Whatever evil entity that had animated him like a vigorous puppet was now gone, fled forever from this empty shell and taking his soul with it.

As Mira started to reply, Tsuna blindly toyed with several things in his mind.

The postcard.

The music.

The prostitute.

Somehow the Devil had managed to link all of them to him, even to this latest crime scene. It was no coincidence. There was only one explanation.

The Devil had seen him last night.

The Devil had seen the woman get into the car with him.

The Devil had heard the music playing, and he knew Tsuna had heard it too.

The message was clear:

_**I'm watching you**_**.**

His vision was beginning to fade. Dark spots danced madly in front of him, playing havoc with his ailing sight.

"…..Air on a G String. By Bach." Tsuna saw Mira's lips move, heard her placid reply and had time for one last thought before he collapsed.

_**The Devil, on G String.**_

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**Oya~! Can you guess who is the DEVIL? There is a poll in my profile for the Devil in this Fic.. Click now and vote.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Owned by the one and only Akira Amano.

**Author's note: Nothing. Bleh :p**

**I need a beta…! The spelling and grammatical mistakes are getting into my nerves! I can't help it, English is not my native language.**

Aaaaah~! I forgot this fic is set on AU/OC/OOC..gets?!

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**Set the World on Fire**

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**Chapter 5**

There she stood in the meadow, alone.

The sun shone on her. Not the kind of sunlight that scorched your flesh, nor the kind that those sunbathers and assorted beach bums longed to soak up for a superficially tanned look, but the soft, mild sunlight that a gentle dawn brings, or perhaps the final farewell from a twilight orb. Bathed in its ardent glow, she looked pristinely beautiful, resembling a goddess. She wore a simple white gown and stood there, in the middle of the flowers, smiling at him. Such a radiant, sincere smile. That was one of the things he liked about her. Even when he had a bad day at work, that smile of hers never failed to remind him of the better things in life. Now, it seemed more angelic than ever, and he felt at peace just looking at it…

"Kyoko," he began. His throat felt dry and scratchy, his tongue an uncooperative lump of flesh residing his mouth.

"Kyoko, please forg-" he never got to finish those words as the meadow she was standing in completely wilted, the withered flowers quickly shriveling and dying. The sun shone brighter – brighter and brighter, until it hurt to look at Kyoko, who was still standing serenely in the midst of the devastated meadow, and then it got hotter and hotter, so hot that Tsuna could feel his skin crackling with heat, so hot his head felt like it was literally burning. Then the screams began, terrifying screams, pleading screams, desperate screams. They got louder and louder, coalescing till they surrounded Tsuna like a cacophony of madness, amplifying his agony while he burned in his own skin, the women were screaming, screeching, begging, telling him to please-

"-WAKE UP!" A sharp sting on his cheek, but it hurt far less than he thought it would. Slowly, painfully, he opened his eyes.

The room spun into nauseatingly clear focus: he was in a bed, with a ratty blanket draped over him. An old fan spun overhead quietly, the wind it provided giving him momentary comfort from the heat. Mira sat in a chair beside the bed. One look at her face told him she was the one who given the painful, yet timely awakening.

"What happened?" he croaked.

"What happened? I should be asking you that question! The way you were screaming in your sleep, I thought you were fighting for your life, as though you'd seen the Devil yourself –"she paused. "Sorry, bad word choice."

"It's okay," he tried to assure her, although his heart was still palpitating. The fiery fog of his mind was now lifting quickly, as a rush of information flooded his brain – he remembered everything, up till the point where he fainted…

"You sure?" she seemed unconvinced, and he couldn't blame her.

"Just a bad dream. I'm in a hospital?" she nodded.

"Yep. You conked out so quick on the floor and left me alone in that crazy room of faces, I nearly panicked. Thankfully the officer you just sent off hadn't gone too far, so I managed to get him to radio in an ambulance…"

"…okay. Can we go over the latest crime scene? I'm sure the sweeping team has already done their job, do you have the latest reports?" his mouth felt terribly dry, hot even. Apparently his body was still recovering from that nightmare.

"Yes. But, uh, shouldn't you take a bit more rest…?" she looked at him questioningly.

He remembered that look. It was a look he had seen before, a long time ago, when he was just a child. When he returned to school after the funeral.

The teacher was just giving out a test, and when she reached his desk she stopped there. _Poor child_, she must have thought.

_Having lost his mother at such a young age. He's in no condition to do the _test; _I'd better just let him skip it._ He could literally see all this written on her face, as she gave him that look of pity mixed with sympathy.

He hated it.

It was an expression he wholly detested. It made him feel weak, deprived, lost. That same look would haunt him years later, after the divorce, when everyone around him started wearing it on their faces when dealing with him. Even Mira. Coincidentally, that was also when the anger and the red mist it brought along began, bubbling and boiling beneath him. He felt like smashing their faces in, pummeling them to a pulp, telling them to_ STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT_-

"I'm fine." He retorted, and simultaneously realized he was panting.

"If you're sure…"

"Yes. Please get on with it." He snapped.

"Okay. Well…toxicology reports are still rather incomplete at this time, but what we are sure of is that the Devil apparently injected him with some sort of chemical cocktail that incapacitated him – knock him out, I suppose. It also produced the simultaneous effect of placing him in a catatonic state, as we've both seen."

"…how did he die? I thought they said he was alive when they found him."

"…A slow poison was also mixed inside the cocktail, so it killed him very, very slowly. He was essentially a ticking time bomb that expired soon after that last line of crazy speech. The first medics didn't even notice the poison that was there, there were so many other chemicals flooding his system it slipped past them. Otherwise, they would have immediately sent him to the hospital and he could still be alive. " She said.

Silence in the room for a moment, with the fan's steady whirring the only sound in the room. Then a page was flipped.

"The faces on the wall confirmed what we first thought: the man was indeed another serial killer. One of the most prolific ones, in fact. He never surfaced on our database, but most of them never do. They're still counting the number of victims by the number of faces…"

"And the music?" he questioned.

"That's the strange part. It's Bach's Air on a G String, but…it just doesn't fit. The dead guy's victims were all horribly mutilated and tortured. The derp himself was a pretty twisted guy, violent and quick to anger. The music just doesn't fit him or his crimes. It's completely different from all the other music choices the Devil's made." She frowned.

"Also, there's the question of why he slowly poisoned the victim instead of just shooting him like his other murders. What was the point of letting him live for a few short and very painful hours?" the questions kept coming.

"…how did the music play?" he replied with one himself.

"The sweepers found a spring loaded mechanism attached to a timer, on the gramophone. The moment the timer ran out, the mechanism activated, causing the record to play." Mira read off her notes.

Tsuna stopped.

_He was essentially a ticking time bomb….after that last line of crazy speech._

_The moment the timer ran out…the record to play._

It was never about the latest victim at all.

It never had been.

The man had just been unfortunate enough to be chosen by the Devil, as part of a project. Yes, that was it, a project, or more accurately a messenger.

It was all about Tsuna now.

Everything had been set up to revolve around him – not the serial killer. From the inconsistent music choice, to the fact that the bound man was not immediately killed, and the post card that still lay snugly in his back pocket – the Devil had perfectly timed everything so that Tsuna would be the one to discover everything.

Logically, the next question would be why?

…he would not answer that yet. But he knew that if he did, he would also find the Devil. His thoughts suddenly drifted back to the dream.

It was telling him something. Nothing silly or superstitious of course, Tsuna never believed in that garbage. But it was a timely reminder that he needed to do something. The sooner the better.

Tsuna got out of bed, throwing the covers aside and putting on his coat.

"Where are you-"

"Home. I'm sorry. I feel as though I'm suffocating in this stuffy little room. I'll be much better once I get a rest back home. Don't worry, we'll catch this guy. I'm sure of it," he gave her a confident smirk, although inside his heart was doubtful.

For some reason, Mira looked infinitely sad. It was strange, seeing her that way. In all his five years of working with her, Tsuna had never seen the woman get this emotional before. Angry, yes. Happy, plenty. But sad? Mira Saint-Claire was NEVER sad. Or at least she never expressed it. The case had to be taking its toll on her. He made a mental note in his mind to ask her about it later. If she had any troubles he was more than willing to hear them, she could even have nightmares as well, he knew he had his own fill of them-

_Kyoko_…

He paused. Now was not the time. There were more important things to do at the moment.

Sighing, he left the room, unaware that his fate had already been sealed.

The final journey into the gaping maws of Hell had already begun – and this time, the Devil would take no survivors.

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whew~! How was it? Kindly rate and review…


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Owned by the one and only Akira Amano.

**Author's note: Nothing. Bleh :p**

**I need a beta…! The spelling and grammatical mistakes are getting into my nerves! I can't help it, English is not my native language.**

Aaaaah~! I forgot this fic is set on AU/OC/OOC..gets?!

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**Set the World on Fire**

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**Chapter 6**

Here was home, the happy place.

Yeah right, who was he kidding.

He had no feelings for the flat at all – none whatsoever. Not even the lingering kind of affection that homeowners have for their first homes. It was understandable really, since he had been living there for a mere five months after the divorce. Tsuna saw it only as a shelter – a rooftop over his head for his sustained existence, nothing more than that. The title of "Home" belonged not to this soulless shack, but to the small, warm apartment back in downtown, where he had once led a reasonably satisfactory, if not wonderful life.

Those days were long gone. _And thinking about them isn't going to help_, he thought bitterly.

Pushing the door open, Tsuna saw that the flat was exactly how he had left it that morning: chaos laid out bare. Ordinarily, he would have started cleaning up the mess, but there was a more important task that called for his attention at the moment.

Striding over to the tabletop, he located the little puppy figurine that was grasping an ornate teacup with its ceramic paws – a cute present from Mira, after he had successfully cracked his first case with her – and retrieved the iron key within. He ran his fingers over its jagged teeth, taking solace in the way they ran over his flesh.

In went the iron key – a twist, then another turn – and the basement door swung outwards with a metallic groan.

The sun hadn't begun to set yet as it was still late afternoon, so Tsuna saw no need to switch on the basement light. In the semi-dark gloom of the basement chamber, he found exactly what he was looking for.

There it stood, a seemingly sinister figure hunched at one corner of the room. He stared at it. It stared back. If it were sentient, it would know exactly why he was there. And perhaps, it would have done whatever it needed in order to stop him

But of course, fairytales were fairytales. There were no fairy godmothers to coddle and protect you in times of need, no knights in shining armor to rescue you from the dread claws of the dragon, no incinerators suddenly coming to life and changing the course of the story.

In short, no happy endings.

The incinerator was not a very large one, as his basement was small enough as it was, but it was still spacious enough for Tsuna to get in if he wanted – crouched and horribly cramped of course. Switching on the power source, he carefully prised open the trapdoor lid and peered in. Empty, as expected. He had already cleaned it last week, sparing no effort in making sure that it was nearly spick and span, although that was near impossible due to the burn marks.

Then he got to work, retrieving what he needed from another corner of the basement and painstakingly loading it into the incinerator – somehow with every use, the incinerator seemed to shrink. Finally, he managed to get it done and slammed the trapdoor lid with much unneeded force.

That was how Tsuna did things – quickly and efficiently. If fists and blows could get the job done faster, then so be it. If a suspect refused to break under interrogation, bring on the threats and intimidation, he would say. If all that was needed was an extra push, an extra burst of strength, then he would provide it.

Most unfortunately, this also meant that he failed to listen to the telltale clang of a small metallic object falling out of the gaps in the incinerator door just as he banged it shut with all the force he could muster.

But Tsuna had other things on his mind than to contend with such trifling events. He shuffled over to the switch on the wall, and calmly turned the dial all the way to "HIGH".  
As the incinerator began to groan and rumble, a sure sign that it was doing its work, Tsuna thought of the dream he had had in the hospital. They were becoming more and more frequent…Kyoko and the screams…and the heat, God damn it, the heat.

He didn't want to think about how it would be if his dream was true, if he was actually roasting in the fires.

All that he knew was that he was doing what was necessary, and that was all.

Through the gaps in the door, Tsuna saw the incinerator's flames flicker and dance madly, devouring their contents with malicious glee. Seemingly licking, caressing and then suddenly scorching – much like how a cat teases the mouse it has caught playfully before callously ending its life with a quick bite to the head.

He quickly became aware of the throbbing heat wave that was beginning to emanate from the basement – it quickly enveloped him, wrapping him in its tight embrace, forcing him to relive that terrible moment in the dream.

Panting, he ran out of the basement, slammed the door shut and fell onto the couch nearby, covering his eyes with his arm.

_It's not my fault._

_It's not my fault._

_It's not my fault they…_

He refused to enter that dark place any further.

Tsuna's mind apparently agreed, as he quickly began to feel the tendrils of sleep closing in on him. His last thought before the tide of slumber swept in was Kyoko, in their school days, she had looked exactly like in that dream in the meadow, pristinely pure and beautiful, if only the old days came back and they could fly together up in the sky and go to any place they wanted and leave this whole mess behind and….

When he woke up, it was dark.

Not as dark as that terrible house of course – Tsuna thought he would never encounter darkness that was more terrifying or suffocating than that – but the darkness he was now in was pretty close.

Even from his sleeping place on the couch, he already knew that the sun had set long ago.

He got up, and rubbed his head. For a brief moment, he had enjoyed a dreamless, deep sleep. An unnamed sanctuary where for just a moment, serial killers didn't exist, neither did the Devil nor his cryptic actions, all the madness and death and heat and screams – all of them gone, banished into the abyss of the void, and it was just him and it.  
But that sparingly brief time in paradise was over, and he was back in purgatory.

Still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he lumbered over to the light switch and flipped it.

No response.

He flicked it off, and flipped it on again. Still no lights.

That was strange. He was absolutely sure that those lights had worked the previous night, and in no way were they old or needed replacement. It just didn't seem right that they would suddenly become faulty.

Then Tsuna turned, and noticed the front door was ajar.

He cursed his own stupidity. After dealing with the incinerator in the basement, he had foolishly forgotten to lock the front door. Now, any opportunist burglar or psycho within a mile's radius of the building could now be inside his flat, ready to strike when the stupid, careless homeowner finally came bumbling down the corridor in search of him.

Licking his lips, he trod silently over to the dresser table near the basement and opened the drawer with utmost finesse. He drew out a flashlight (_and don't switch it on yet you idiot, you don't want to alert the intruder_, he admonished himself) and his spare pistol, which he always kept around for extra protection, even though he didn't need it. Apparently he was wrong.

Grasping the pistol gently, he silently crept down the hallway, checking the rooms to make sure no one was in them. He had no need to fear – each of them was completely empty. No devious burglars hiding behind the curtains waiting to bludgeon him, no crazed psychos with bloody knives waiting to carve him to pieces behind the doors – there was no one there at all.

_I'm getting too paranoid_, he thought. T_his Devil case is beginning to make me crack, just like it has done to Mira, maybe I'll talk to the Chief tomorrow and we'll make some kinda arrangement-_

The bathroom door slowly creaked open behind him.

He spun around immediately, only to be greeted by a vacant room – the wind, gently blowing through the windows in the hallway lightly chuckled with mischievous glee, admitting to its devious prank.

And yet, something was wrong.

Tsuna could feel a ball of tension rising in his throat. His skin prickled with anticipation, a light chill ran down his spine. He knew that feeling – something was out of place; something was terribly and unmistakably not right.

He switched on the flashlight. It sputtered to life reluctantly, weak rays of light shining weakly and illuminating the bathroom with just enough light for Tsuna to see clearly.

Everything in that bathroom was perfectly fine – except the mirror.

It was a typical medium sized mirror that nearly everyone hung over their sink in the washroom –the one that mothers used to teach their children how to brush their teeth, the one that plenty of teenagers used to prim and groom themselves, the one that many adults glared at with bloodshot eyes before work.

This mirror, however, was different.

Tsuna felt his stomach churn, his head spun as he realized the nightmare he was trapped in. The thick, red paint that the words were painted with still dripped to the sink below, enhancing the horrifying illusion that blood was splattered all over it. The words themselves were beginning to smudge, the red paint of each letter mixing and coagulating much like blood with its adjacent neighbours, producing a gory effect. But there was no denying it: the message itself was more than enough proof of who had deigned to visit him on this dark November night.

_**Fire, fire, burning bright.**_

_**Look who we have on this night!**_

_**A lost child, on the path to doom?**_

_**Oh, fear not, for the Devil will get you soon!**_

He dashed out of the bathroom in a blind panic, sprinting wildly along the hallway to the main room, just doing anything, anything to get away from that room, get out of this flat, it was no longer safe –

As Tsuna made it to the living room, he paused.

The computer, stereo, and even the TV had turned on by themselves.

The computer – its screen was set to his default background, a program already running.

The stereo – a bright orange light flashed steadily at him, signaling that it was ready to begin playing.

The TV – a dark, voluminous screen stared back at him. Only the speakers' light beside it gave any indication that it was switched on.

Then the insanity began.

As one, the three electronic devices began playing the same piece of music. Tsuna had already heard it twice, this time would his third, and the one time that would seal it permanently in his memory.

Like an old friend, the same clear, sweet strains began drifting out from each corner of the room, at exactly the same pace, exactly the same timing. To anyone listening it would be peculiar: The same piece of music played three times upon each other, but it would still be soothing and calm. To Tsuna, the music had wicked claws, digging and scratching at his psyche, worming its way deep into his mind, spiraling itself into a twisted melody of madness until he could no longer bear it.

As_ Air on a G String_ continued to fill his eardrums, he sank to the floor on his knees desperately, covering his ears with his palms, desperate for anything that would stop the dreadfully serene music.

But the Devil had one more gift for him.

As he sank to the floor, the flashlight he had been holding onto rolled silently across the carpet, once again illuminating the room, revealing the final hidden nightmare.

The floor was literally littered with hundreds and hundreds of postcards. They were scattered all over the place, thrown messily all around: below the couch, under the table, on the dinner table, everywhere. The only reason why he had failed to notice them was due to the lack of light, and his over-determined concentration while searching for his mysterious invader.

Of course, they all bore the same phrase that drove the nail into the coffin; the phrase that Tsuna knew would be seared into his memory forever. It was a phrase he had seen this morning, heard it again from a dead man in the afternoon, and now for the final time it teased him incessantly again, that formerly elegant handwriting now seemingly twisted and deformed.

_**IS tHis AbOUt GOd?**_

…_**.oR mAyBE iT's aBOuT tHe DEVil?**_

Far, far away from that unfortunate man, the Devil began humming, much like a mother would to her distressed child.

A soft tune, a lullaby even, such as its tender and gentle nature.

A sharp intake of breath, then the humming ceased.

The preparations were all made, the traps all laid.

Their little charade was drawing to a close, the games would quickly be over.

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**ME: intense chapter~! Whew…. Guess the Devil is now open.. kindly go to my profile and vote wisely.. ^-^**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** T-T

**Author's Note: Honestly, I'm surprised that I received these kind of responses.. This fic has just been added to 5 communities.. thank you very much.. As for the poll? Hmm.. Reborn is currently in the lead with 38% of the total votes.. is Reborn the Devil, maybe? Just want to tell you that expect the unexpected.. Just be prepared for one hell of a bumpy ride!**

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**Set the World on Fire**

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**Chapter 7**

Rain: soft, warm droplets of pure moisture that came forth from the slate grey sky.

Falling, falling, falling.

Some descended swiftly onto the pavement, some landed onto clunky umbrella heads, some on the faceless pedestrians traversing the streets below with the utmost alacrity. And yet others seemed to vanish without a trace, stolen away by the fingers of an unseen force just before they hit the ground.

Tsuna watched the sky shed its tears, pressing his hand up against the window, feeling the cool aura of a November rainstorm.

Mira sat quietly opposite him, a steaming mug of coffee in hand.

Neither exchanged words, or even looked at each other. There was no need to. They both understood that such a moment was too delicate for clumsy, fumbling words or awkward glances.

The lounge in the precinct was a shabby place – rusty chairs, dusty wooden shelves stocked with yellowed magazines from god knows which decade, an ancient television set that only worked once every few months, and a musty, big old sofa right next to the grimy windows, where they currently sat.

They sat in absolute silence for a few minutes: Mira taking occasional sips of her coffee, Tsuna still pressing his palm against the window which was now beginning to fog over with the cold; the steady fall of the raindrops keeping the both of them company.

Well-formed lips parted, a mysterious dark brew trickling past them, flowing beyond.

"…that bad, huh?" she said.

He didn't respond.

"Come on, Tsuna. You were a wreck when I found you. Crouched in one corner, facing the door, holding your pistol in one hand, aimed directly at it. You nearly shot me, for god's sake! And what was with the trashed TV, PC and stereo? You didn't destroy them…did you?" she pressed on.

Her words were foggy and distant, as if she were talking through a very poorly made walkie talkie and he was thousands and thousands of miles away from where she was. Her words buzzed and hummed, wrapped in a thick cotton cloak, indecipherable, impenetrable.

Meaningless.

And yet here she was continuing to prattle on, believing she could get him to reveal his inner darkest secrets, show his true self to her and shatter the shell that surrounded him.

"…you know what I'm going to ask, don't you?" Mira mouthed out the words at him, as she looked him directly in the eye.

Tsuna had to admit, Mira was a package of continuous surprises. Never in his five years with her had he seen her looking this determined before – black eyes boring into his, straight tunnels into the windows of her soul. And yet, he couldn't see the woman behind them. All that was there was a fiercely burning drive that would stop at nothing to achieve what it wanted, an impossibly strong strength of will that did what it wanted to, at whatever the cost.

He was both frightened and impressed at the same time.

"Yes," he breathed out throatily.

"Will you tell me?" the mug of coffee was now empty. Mira savoured that last drop of delicious darkness sliding down her throat, as she waited for a reply.

Silence yet again for an uncomfortably long period of time; she relentlessly gazed straight at him, while he simply sat back, looked out the window once more and started tracing shapes on the rain streaked window.

But inside he was thinking, and deeply at that.

Then it suddenly came to him, clear as day.

"Are you free tonight?" he suddenly sat up.

"…yes." She appeared surprised at his sudden movement.

"I will tell you. But not now. Tonight, at my place. Be there at 7pm. The cops the Chief sent to guard the place probably won't bother you since you're detective rank."

She sighed.

"The only way for this to end, and for us to ever catch the guy, is if you tell us everything: why he targeted you, what he has done, and how he knew all of it. I sincerely hope you won't hide anything when I see you tonight…"

He didn't respond.

He sat at the kitchen table, the vintage bottle of rose champagne keeping him company while he awaited Mira's arrival.

Tsuna didn't drink that much, but somehow he felt that this was a special occasion.

Tonight…all of it would end.

Somehow, he felt a little wistful about it. Months of therapy, slowly working at healing those grievous wounds inflicted on him by the divorce, would all end now. And he wasn't even at the finishing stages yet. His subsequent reveal to Mira would spell the end of everything – life would utterly change as he knew it.

He wondered what Kyoko would think of him.

She would look at him with those sad soulful eyes first, but not for long. They would soon transform into that hateful look, the one that had plagued him from young, the one that they always gave: pity with a carefully measured dose of sympathy, this time probably concealing a slightest hint of fear.

_Careful now_, it would say. _Don't overdo it – you don't want him thinking you're actually feeling oh so sorry for him, then he would get mad and probably tear you apart, be careful, you don't know what kind of a monster he is._

Tsuna felt his fists clench subconsciously, tightening their grip around the mobile phone he had in his hand.

That could not happen. He would rather die than let Kyoko know about him, the truth about the man she had once loved. He would never let her know.

_Never._

Which was why he found himself sending a text to Mira a couple of hours before their appointed time, a quick succinct text that told all and reeked of guilt and deception.

Sorry. Not tonight. Personal reasons. Don't worry I'll be fine.

…the champagne would help.

So Tsuna found himself sitting there, the lonely man by the table, indulging in glass after glass of champagne.

He let himself go, let the smooth liquid envelope him, fill his insides and produce that warm aura of comfort that came along with indulgence. He brushed aside any remaining shreds of guilt and remorse, and drowned his sorrows, his regrets, his anguish.

Tsuna didn't know how long he sat there drinking, but it seemed like an eternity to him.

When the bottle was nearly gone, he looked up at the wall clock.

6:30pm.

Maybe he would go out again tonight, pick up some other girl, and make himself feel better…

A bell rang out, a soft sweet chime that lifted the fog of his depressive stupor. Tsuna slowly put his last glass of champagne down and looked towards the living room, where his tablet PC awaited him with its newest email message.

Twilight shadows, gently stealing across the floor, their delicate dusky fingers reaching towards him.

Tsuna got up and stumbled out of the kitchen, not caring if the email was from the Chief telling him that he was suspended, or if it was from Mira, admonishing him and expressing her hurt disappointment.

_None of you matter anymore. No one does. Except her…_

Cradling the tablet PC In his hand, and desperately avoiding his ruined desktop computer on the side (that damn hammer he'd bought last year from the tool shop had finally come in handy), he clicked the email.

Whatever lingering effect the champagne had had on him – as little as it had been, was soon dispelled the moment he read those lines.

Tsuna suddenly remembered a horror movie he'd seen when he was a child: some poor unfortunate kid had made it through the entire movie, apparently surviving the monster that had stalked him and killed every last member of his friends and family. The poor kid was safe now, the monster was never going to find him anymore…

Then a shadow fell across the screen, and Tsuna knew instinctively, without a doubt, that the monster had finally caught up with him, and the kid was going to die a horrible death. Even though the movie ended there and then – with just that ominous shadow – Tsuna knew the kid was doomed. There was no escape.

_Because you can't run from it, the monster always finds you in the end, no matter how far you go, just like you can't run from the Devil, he always finds you in the end, no no no you can't run from him, run but you cannot hide, he's coming, he's coming, HE'S COMING –_

FROM: levideht

SUBJECT: (no subject)

_**Why? Why? Why? Why? WHY? WHY?**_

_**WHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHWHY WHYWHYWHY**_

_**Truth hath come, truth is here.**_

_**Yet you choose to hide in fear.**_

_**Worry not, doomed child, in your lies you will drown.**_

_**I will descend on you when the sun is down.**_

He was that child.

Tsuna looked out of the window.

The last rays were already struggling to stay afloat on the horizon. The sun itself was nowhere to be seen.

He had to go, _**now**__._

He turned, and sprinted to the front door (_thank god it's open!_), and stumbled out.

The two cops that the Chief had assigned to guard his flat were nowhere to be seen – _some protection_, he thought.

But now was not the time. He needed to get away from here, as far as possible, call up Mira, then the Chief, and hopefully let them apprehend the Devil before he slipped out of their clutches again –

"Tsuna? Where are you?" a familiar voice called out, from _within _the apartment.

Mira.

A vibration in his front pocket.

Numbly, he prised his phone out, and looked at it.

It was from an unknown number.

Dear child, drown not your sorrows in wine.

You walk the path to damnation, such a fine line.

But worry not, I will keep you company today.

Come out from your kitchen, child, and let us play.

In a moment of clarity, he realized everything.

_They were both in his flat._

The Devil had probably composed that email long before now – and had remotely sent it with a simple click of a button miles away from his own computer, while he hid in Tsuna's flat, in one of the rooms, and watched as Tsuna drunk himself into oblivion.

Apparently, he wasn't that good at holding his alcohol after all.

Then Mira – that stubborn woman – had ignored his text, entered the flat just _moments_ before Tsuna emerged from the kitchen to check the email, and was now in one of the rooms, perilously close to the Devil and death itself.

He had to get her out of there.

He sneaked back in, his breath shallow and tepid.

The ominously long hallway stretched out before him, doors stretched out wide.

His hand automatically went to his gun at his belt.

_Damn it Mira, you shouldn't have come._

Then he heard it again.

"Tsuna….?" she said out loud.

She was in the second last room down the hallway, near the bathroom.

Tsuna felt a short burst relief – quickly replaced by primal fear, as he realized that he wasn't the only one in the flat who possessed the power of hearing.

Running, dashing now – swinging the door open, trudging straight inside.

"Mira, we have to go now – "his voice trailed off as he stared into the completely empty room.

_But…._

Twilight shadows, softly stealing across the floor, their gentle fingers finally long enough to reach him before abruptly vanishing.

The last rays of light disappeared over the horizon, plunging the gloomy room into the darkness of night.

As he felt the telltale bite of a Taser in his back, Tsuna willed himself to move, to turn, to run – but his body refused to obey him. Instead, he began to spasm, arms and legs twitching uncontrollably as electric current coursed through him, making him jerk back and forth like an epileptic, muscles out of control.

Fading, fading, fading.

The room swam as he slowly began to lose consciousness – but not before he felt smooth hands caress his hair, hushed gentle words being hummed to him, much like how a mother would soothe her distressed child.

A soft tune, a lullaby even, such was its tenderness.

Playtime had begun.

**The Devil was here.**

**ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

**Chapter 9 will reveal who the Devil is! (maybe?)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** Owned by the one and only Akira Amano.

**Author's Note**: Ohno! as stated on the last chapter, I said that the devil was to be revealed on chapter 9, my mistake T-T….

**MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD!** If you haven't read the rest of the series, then please, for the love of all that is good and mighty, don't start here, or you'll hate yourself when you reach the end.!

**Please listen to Tipper's illabye**** for more enhanced experience with the story!**

**Attached this link to youtube site /watch?v=w1DKy1uqGpE**

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**Set the World on Fire**

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**Chapter 8**

When he woke up, Tsuna was mildly surprised to see for once that it wasn't dark.

It was bright – blindingly bright, in fact.

Then as the fog in his mind lifted and his senses were restored to their former clarity, he groggily recalled everything that had happened.

He lifted up a hand and rubbed his head.

Or tried to.

His hands were tightly bound behind him to the chair he was in – so tight, so constricted, he could barely move his fingers themselves. He wriggled them a little, letting the blood flow back into them, and testily touched the rope he was bound with.

No use. He could feel at least two dead knots, but he knew there were more…

The Devil never let his prey escape.

Somehow, he was the only one that was illuminated by a bright lamp hanging above him. Everywhere else was dark – it was as if he was in a spotlight, and the darkness that surrounded him was filled with unseen observers, whispering wraiths, a demented audience that watched his every move.

But the only pair of living eyes there in the dark belonged to a single person.

Tsuna could barely make it out in the gloom, but there was definitely someone sitting in a chair in the darkness, right in front of him. He squinted, forcing himself to discern the face, but it was useless: the shadows did their job well. Too well, in fact.

"…were your games fun for you, you sick bastard?" he spat out, and glared with venom at the figure in the dark.

Even though Tsuna couldn't see a thing on his face, he knew that the Devil was mildly amused.

"They'll catch you. You'll never escape. In the end they will find you, all the others, the Chief, and Mira and –"he broke off in midsentence.

Mira.

Where was she?

The Devil had probably used her as a lure to draw him into the room – held her at knifepoint or something, and made her call him out, before tasering him when he entered.

"What have you done with Mira, you bastard? Let her go at once, this has nothing to do with her!" he snarled at the dark figure.

The shadow whispered behind it, gleefully teasing him.

Tsuna grit his teeth. This was probably enjoyable for the Devil – seeing him squirm and make demands, and yet unable to actually fulfill any of them. He would try taunting him then – make the psycho angry, maybe that would work.

"…you know, you're just like all those men you killed. Killing other serial killers? Please. You're just as twisted and sick as all of them; you think you're doing the city a favor? Justice? You are so wrong. Vigilantes – men like you, only think of themselves, think of all the attention they'll get when-"

The figure got up.

Tsuna bit his lip. Obviously it had worked.

It approached him slowly.

As the Devil sauntered calmly towards him, Tsuna could start making out his features.

Each step the Devil took was like the falling of a puzzle piece into place: jumbled, jacked up, messy at first, but then there was that moment of succinct clarity – when you suddenly knew where they all went, where the ones in the corner fit, where the middle pieces had to go, and where that particularly stubborn piece belonged to.

The dark audience laughed in the shade, laughed at Tsuna and his stupidity, his failure to notice sooner, his inability to see the big picture.

A final footfall, and then the same bright light shone on the Devil, illuminating the final pieces of the puzzle.

Tsuna thought perhaps he couldn't be shocked or frightened anymore – too much had happened in the past few days for him to feel anything. But then those deadened nerves of his sprung back to life, coursing with fear, desperation, horror, realization – as the truth came crashing down, dragging the last shards of his sanity, his soul and his mind along with it.

"Dear Tsuna," Mira said as she cradled Tsuna's face in her soft, warm hands, "whatever made you think I was 'male'?"

He remembered his first day as detective vividly – finally, after years of slogging his way through work, he had finally been promoted.

Tsuna remembered how eager he had been as the Chief himself welcomed him, and led him around his office.

He remembered how intrigued he had been when the Chief introduced him to his new partner. The first thing he thought when he saw her: _whoa, you don't want to mess with her. _She exuded that aura of strong confidence, the kind that bolstered all the people around her, the kind that encouraged you to fight for yourself. Then he saw her soft brown eyes, the way her hair fell gently on her shoulders, the way her mouth twitched with mild amusement when she saw him, and he knew without a doubt that they were going to have a very, very good partnership. She had the image of a kindly, yet determined woman – she could provide comfort and emotional aid if need be, but she was definitely not one to shy away from the hard stuff either, as Tsuna soon found out in the early days.

…_what happened to you?_

_Or were you like this all along?_

They stared into each other's eyes for a long, long time, in the bright light, away from the gloom as the shadow audience continued to watch.

Brown ones found blue ones as they stared in each other's souls, twisted companions finding each other.

Tsuna found himself looking into the abyss – that soft look she always had when dealing with special cases was nowhere to be found. This time, he saw an empty hunger lingering in those orbs – malicious, sadistic, _evil_ hunger. He remembered the look of determination she had when she was trying to pry the truth out of him. What he saw now was like this, but a far more insidious version. These eyes would do anything, _anything_, to achieve its goal. Suffering, pain, agony – they were nothing at all.

There was not a hint of kindness left in those eyes – whatever bits and pieces that remained had been swallowed up long ago by the darkness that resided within her. All that remained was torment – sheer hunger, the need to cause callous pain and hurt to others, all masked by a careful veneer of self-control and discipline.

_We can't go out of control now, can we? _The eyes told him. _It's hard to keep it under control, we know, but it makes it oh so delicious in the end, which is all worth it. We don't want to end up like those stupid murderers that go around bragging about their kills, and getting caught the very next day. That's why we have the mask, the good mask, the one that hides our true nature from everyone else. We are excellent at hiding; yes we are, never revealing our darkness to others. No, no…we will always hide in the dark, hide behind the mask, and wait._

_Wait._

_Wait._

_Until the next one comes along…_

These were the eyes of the Devil.

She broke off the contact with him, a slight smile at the edges of her lips.

Tsuna drew a sharp breath, and let the chill air fill him, let the truth continue to gnaw at his insides. The clues were everywhere, he just hadn't noticed them sooner…

She was part of the investigative team at the first Devil killing – and was in charge of all the reports. It was she who had first called the Devil a "he" – the rest of them had blindly fallen in, assumed that the killer was male…

At that terrifying house – she was able to navigate that dark hallway so easily because she had already been there before…

The reason why the bound man had suddenly gone mad in his last few minutes and spouted those words – just the sight of his torturer was enough to do that to anyone…

And finally – the Devil's admonishing email he had gotten a few hours before. He had sent Mira a text cancelling their meeting just before he had gotten it….

The shadows giggled at his revelation.

"Why," he murmured.

Silence for a moment. She stood there, hands behind her back, a sentry watching over him, her errant prisoner. Frowning at him, marring that homely, serene look of hers.

"Do you know why I joined the police force, Tsuna?" she inquired, tilting her head slightly, a curious look on her face.

He kept silent, and fidgeted a bit.

"Justice, of course! I wanted to help the common folk, serve the community, and put away the baddies behind the prison!" she cheered out, like a child that had just gotten candy.

"Really?" he raised an eyebrow.

She smiled back serenely for a moment, and then that entire face _crumpled_, twisted, disfigured into a nightmarish canvas that held only sheer pervasive evil.

"Of course not. Let me tell you why…"she crawled to his side, gently brushed the side of his face, and pressed her warm soft lips to his ear.

"I joined…for the thrill of hunting. Oh sure, you can get your sources of amusement elsewhere, games, shooting animals, whatnot. But that didn't do for me. I wanted something more. Something delicious, something I could savour. The thrill…of hunting people. Bad guys, good guys, who cares? All I wanted was to feel that instant. That moment…when you are nearly upon on them, and they know they can't win and they start to plead and beg, fear for their life, fear the pain you are going to bestow upon them…that feeling, it's…_divine_." here her voice dropped to a low, seductive tone.

"Then why-"he got cut off suddenly by a finger to his lips.

"Shh…so impatient." She stroked his hair again, and hummed a little lullaby, like a mother comforting her distressed child.

"But soon…that feeling started to fade away. Small time muggers, burglars, petty thieves, and occasionally your impulse murderer – catching them presented little to no challenge, they submitted so easily, it was offensive. So I had to move on…to bigger things." She continued stroking him.

Tsuna felt a lump rise in his throat as he pondered the situation. Maybe, just maybe, if he pandered to her…

"As you know, I'm very good at finding people and things. So I searched. Long and hard, with the help of the police database. Took me a while, but I finally found my first catch."

"Do you know what it's like, hunting prey? It's exhilarating. It's breathtaking. Makes you feel so alive… But once in a while, there comes a special one, the one that takes much more effort to catch and trap, and the one that makes you feel as though everything you've caught before is of no consequence. Those are the serial killers. See, they're already hunters. Some of them are especially good ones, like my latest catch. A nasty piece of work, he was. But it's all worth it in the end. Hunting prey is good, but hunting a hunter? They put up even more fight, can't believe that for once they're the prey, not the predator. And when you finally catch up to them, break that fighting spirit, and then the fear spills from them…a fear that has devoured so many others before, and yet now it falls before you, cowering like a mewling wretch, the broken fear of another killer. It's…_amazing_." She trailed off.

Tsuna felt sick.

Mira stood up, and the knife that she had held in her other hand gleamed in the light.

She pointed it at him, but he refused to flinch. Now was not the time to show weakness, especially when she had just told him she savoured every drop of it from her victims.

"Now that you know about the 'real' me," she twirled the knife expertly, and Tsuna saw his reflection in its sharp, smooth surface, "it's time for you to do the same. Common courtesy, don't you agree?"

His heart started to race.

"I don't know what you are talking about."

She laughed, a cold, callous laugh filled with amusement and a barely contained hint of tolerance.

"Come on, Tsuna, stop playing games. You know as well as I do that I'm not the only one in this room with bloodied hands. Or maybe…I'll have to show you?" she strode past him into the gloom, walking towards the basement door.

As she disappeared down into the basement, Tsuna started to struggle. He knew that all the victims in the Devil murders had always struggled, but he didn't actually know what it meant to struggle, to really fight, to claw your way out and exert every single muscle in your body in one desperate bid to avoid lingering death…until now.

But it was useless. As the ropes scraped against his wrists, he start to feel despondent. There was no way out…the Devil never made mistakes…or did she?

He held his breath.

The bright light above him flickered for a moment.

One of the knots…had come loose.

Could it be…?

He maneuvered his fingers carefully, feeling each knot around his wrists. And there – there it was, a loose one. He scarcely dared to draw another breath, so hopeful and yet so excited about this lone saviour, the spanner in the works. Slowly, carefully now, he pulled on one end of the loose knot, as if he were defusing a bomb. Everything hung on this knot: if he managed to get it undone, his hands would be free enough to perhaps squirm their way out of the rope itself and then…

"Well, look what I found…" Mira's maddeningly calm voice echoed from the darkness around him.

Tsuna stopped fidgeting immediately.

She stepped back into the light, her demented expression taking on a whole new meaning as the light flooded onto her visage, accentuating her twisted look. In her hand she gripped a tiny band of metal, something shining back at him as she held it up in the light.

"…surely you recognize this?" she cooed and gazed at it lovingly.

"No." and he was being honest this time.

"Really? Poor Hio…I'm sure she had her own hopes and dreams, before you snuffed them out. I gave her this ring to wear, as a token of my appreciation for having to entertain you."

Tsuna froze.

That prostitute he picked up outside the music store two days ago…

"_Sure," she smiled back, "what could possibly go wrong?"_

_They had gone back to his apartment. Had a few glasses of wine, some romantic chit chat, but she didn't seem that interested._

_Then…the urge came._

_He knew it had to be done. When he got angry, the red mist came and it would hurt so badly, make him feel like he needed to destroy someone, hurt someone else. Ironic, really. He found that the only way to banish the red mist was to…_

_He had to do it. If he was in this state forever, Kyoko would never take him back. He needed her. She was his light, his beacon in this dark world._

_Besides…it wasn't his first time._

_A struggle, then submission._

_A heartbeat perhaps, and then none._

_Cries for help, silenced in the dark._

_Sweat._

_The aura of death, lingering in the air._

_A hand, flopping lifelessly at the edge of the bed._

_A thud, onto the ground, as he dragged her to the basement and into a corner…_

_The incinerator awaited._

Mira frowned at him.

"Your disposal wasn't so complete apparently…sure the incinerator was clean, but you just had to miss this ring, didn't you…" she kissed it reverently and closed her eyes.

Tsuna closed his mind, and fingered the loose knot.

"So…how many?" she said.

He didn't respond, his fingers twitching as he continued pulling at the loose end…

"I said…_HOW MANY_?" her voice dropped dangerously low as she leaned in, holding the knife to his face and tipping the edge towards his eyes.

Fear was clearly reflected in them.

"…five." He said wearily.

Mira stood back up, shaking her head with a look of disappointment etched on her face, like a schoolteacher who was sorely displeased with one of her students.

"And to think…I gave you so many opportunities to confess. The postcard, the messages, the games…all I wanted was for you to turn yourself in when you had the chance. You see, Tsuna, all those years you were my partner, I felt sad for you. This is a broken man, I told myself. Not someone to prey on, and certainly not a predator. Imagine my surprise a few months ago when I traced all the missing prostitutes back to your neighborhood."

She looked infinitely wistful. Her eyebrows drooped; her entire face fell, the shadows painting her as remorseful and regretful.

"Then I asked myself…could it be you? Sure enough, with a bit more digging around…it really was you. My heart broke. Why did you have to become a hunter? Why couldn't you have stuck around as a silly daytime detective, solving crimes here and there with me, being happy with your job? But still, I didn't want to hunt you. So I gave you warnings, threats, messages. But you ignored them all, and here we are now." She murmured.

Tsuna felt the knot finally undo itself.

Mira approached him and cradled his face once more, looking as though she were about to cry, tears glistening at the side of her eyes.

"So you see now…we're not so different after all, are we? We are both damned already. Hunters we are…and yet we're living in the guise of detectives, common protectors of the good. I understand why you didn't want to confess…you were scared. I was, too. But then I grew to embrace the darker side, to let it overtake me. I know you will too, in time. Do you…want to join me?" she whispered into his ear, hot breath brushing against his skin.

He paused.

He never expected this to happen.

Maybe, just maybe, everything would turn out alright.

Something snapped within him, that fiery will suddenly extinguished, a candle flame snuffed out in a draught.

If he accepted her offer, then everything would be fine and then they would get rid of all this mess and he could continue his therapy with the prostitutes, and then Kyoko would come back and everything would be good and well and great and—

"…yes." He breathed back, and let go of the knot that was his salvation.

A glistening teardrop ran down the side of her face.

Then the mask shattered.

"I always like to give my prey a fair chance of escape, makes it more exciting and fun, you see. Some manage to take that chance. Some don't. Sometimes I even tell them they can join me if they want and almost everyone takes up my offer, silly little ducklings. But in the end…I always hunt them down. I imagine you're having some fun with that loose knot of yours? I hope it gave you some form of relief, seeing as I left it there myself. But now…seems like time has run out for you, my dear partner. _Farewell_.**"**

Things in the room were getting hazy now…his head was spinning out of focus, a white hot flash…what was going on?

Tsuna didn't have the strength to look down to see the knife plunged in his chest, but he didn't want to.

He was thinking, thinking of the times he had with Kyoko, of the time when they were teenagers at the picnic and he had confessed and she said _yes Tsuna oh my god I love you too please is this a dream don't let it unreal I don't want to wake up I love you so much you can't imagine how I know we're gonna be happy forever…._

Music was playing now, sweet melancholy tunes.

The room was starting to fade, but still the only thing he saw before his very eyes were the happy memories, accompanied by the music…Moonlight Sonata, was it? Beethoven's piece…and the happy, happy times he had…

A figure, in the darkness, walking along the street.

Oh…what's this?

A homeless person, lying at one corner, newspapers covering him as he snoozed the night away, dreaming of better times.

A few bills, tossed into his empty mug. The figure bends down, pats the man's head, like a mother comforting her sleeping child, humming a lullaby. Hopefully he'll be able to get something to eat for breakfast.

Down along the street then…

The figure pauses, and looks back to the apartment where a detective once lived, but not for very long.

Moonlight Sonata…a depressive piece, some would say, but it's also a beautiful representation of lost hope and longing. Hopeless longing. Foolish clinging, to dreams and memories that will never return. Ultimately, a piece about loss.

Perfect for him then.

The figure continues to stride down the street, hands in coat.

Turning a corner, yet another surprise.

The music store is still open.

The figure smiles and walks in, and is promptly greeted by the store owner.

"Hey Mira…what's up?"

_Nothing much_, the figure replies.

The store owner shrugs, and welcomes her to browse. Then he has an idea. Waddling over to the stereo in the shop, he quickly changes the track to something more familiar, something that he knows his favorite customer likes best. Maybe she'll even buy something when she listens to it.

It's her favorite piece.

As the brilliant moon continues to illuminate the night streets with soft, silver moonlight, as the few cars still around at this hour continue to slowly navigate the streets, as the rest of the neighborhood sleeps in quiet unassuming slumber, as the soothing music of _Air on a G String_ continues to play…

'Mira' smiles. "Devil…ne?"

**"kufufufu~"**

* * *

**In an unknown location.**

"You're still dame ne, Tsuna"

* * *

Tsunayoshi Sawada was still in shock.

"It's Mira all along…" He remembered their encounter earlier. He was glad that Mira left him, believing that he was dead.

"Hehehehe…" Tsuna grimaces but it begins to become a maniacal laughter. "if you're the Devil…."

…_..then I am Satan._

Tsuna whispered to himself as he headed down to his basement.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Oya~! So the Devil is revealed..! Yes!

Thanks for the reviews… The second Part will be up next..

Thanks to **LucyNight **for the wonderful review she gave to me! Worth it for its own TV series? What a compliment.

A big warm of applause to **Swanfrost15**! Holy cow, She's the only person who noticed the hint at the first 3 chapters..! wohooo!  
She noticed the** highlighted words**…!

Thanks also to **Uni Giglio Nero ** for recommending this fic to her friend… and to all the readers, of the first part… Thank you!

**Can you name the 2 new characters appeared in this story?**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** t(-_-t)

**Author's Note: Oya, So folks this chapter/and the chapters soon to follow, will tell some of ****Tsuna's past prior to the story line..**

**NEED BETA**

**It was narrated through Tsuna's POV**

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**Set the World on Fire**

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**Chapter 9**

****As Tsuna neared to the basement, he can't help himself but to reminisce the past...

**Tsuna's POV**

Ah, death! What would I do without it? Why, at a position like mine, I have to kill a lot of people daily. It is enjoyable and yet I got so stressed after working. Every day seems just the same. No matter how hard I try, I never manage to take over the country's nuclear power plant. If I could, I'd be able to become the most powerful man in the country. After that, I could easily take over other countries too.

But how can a man work properly if his network is so weak. Just today, I sent my men to rob the national bank. And they returned empty-handed, with four dead and three injured.

"You fools." I screamed at them when they returned "You went out for a job and this is how you return. Yet you still expect me to pay you."

The gang backed away from me. Then finally, their leader stepped forward.

"Boss," he replied "We couldn't do anything. The police and the spy squad attacked us. It's a miracle we're still alive."

I groaned in anger. My hand went inside my coat pocket and I wrapped my fingers around my gun.

"Give us a chance. We'll try again." The man repeated, taking a step towards me.

I turned my back on him and tried to control my anger.

"Maybe you can take over the nuclear plant by holding a hostage." The fool said.

I groaned again.

"Who?" I replied not turning around "Who, my friend, is such an important figure in this country that _the government would hand over a whole plant for him?"_

The man gulped in reply. "We'll try to rob the bank again." He said in a trembling voice.

I smiled softly. "The rest will. But you won't!"

"Wha-" he started to say, but I didn't give him the chance to complete.

_BANG!_

I shot him right on his head and the dead body fell right on my fancy carpet.

The rest of the gang backed away in terror.

"Clean up the place. I'm going to bed." I ordered to no one in particular and left the room.

I walked into my room and pulled on more comfortable clothes. Then I crawled into bed and thought about the day. Being a terrorist was eventually starting to annoy me. What was the point in trying if there was no way to take control?

Eventually, I started to feel drowsy. I pulled my covers on myself. From outside, I could hear a thunderstorm. I yawned and closed my eyes. Life is so difficult even for me. I sighed and then dozed off...

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**A/N: Okay, so I have to tell first about Tsuna's past to avoid confusion prior on how the story progresses…. So bear with me… so now here are the first 3 chapters..**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** t(-_-t)

**Author's Note: Oya, So folks this chapter/and the chapters soon to follow, will tell some of ****Tsuna's past prior to the story line..**

**NEED BETA**

**It was narrated through Tsuna's POV**

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**Set the World on Fire**

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**Chapter 10**

**Tsuna's POV**

"Maa~ maa, You never really got rid of your drinking problem, did you?" my friend, Yamamoto teased me.

"Huh," I muttered and took another sip of my wine.

Yamamoto stood up smiling. His face showed more wrinkles as he smiled.

"I'm the one with the drinking problem," I said "Yet you're the one who's growing weak, doc."

Yamamoto sighed in reply.

"What can I say?" he said. He walked up to a life-size mirror attached to the wall of my living room and examined himself. "I have been working too hard. Maybe that's why I came over to visit you, Tsuna. I needed a break."

I nodded and walked up to the mirror too. I compared my body with Yamamoto's and a smile spread across my face.

My hair were pure brunet while Yamamoto's had pure jet black. My body was still in shape too whereas I could see that Yamamoto's shoulders were starting to droop a little. I also looked more active and stronger than him.

"We're growing old, Tsuna," Yamamoto murmured "We're growing old and yet we never accomplished anything in life."

I took another sip of my wine.

"Sometimes I think I'm useless." I replied honestly.

"I think you should start a family," Yamamoto said, turning to me "When I first saw you this morning, I couldn't believe it's you. You're showing signs of stress."

"I am stressed."

"Start a family."

"At this age? At this reputation?"

"Oh come on, Tsuna. You're starting to look sick."

"Oh, yeah? Well, you look sicker than me." I teased him.

"At least I'm happy. I look matured from the outside but you're old from the inside!" he ansered.

I didn't reply. I pressed my lips together, walked back to the couch and sat down.

Yamamoto stared at me. Then he lowered his eyes.

"So," he said changing the topic. "I heard there was a bank robbery a few days ago."

"They failed," I said.

"Oh."

"I need power. This is outrageous. I am a billionaire terrorist yet I can't do anything."

"I also heard you killed their leader….."

"He was useless. He actually thought that holding a hostage could get me more power."

"Well," Yamamoto scratched his head "I think he's right."

"What?" I asked him.

"You can kidnap the country's best spy. Everybody loves him. Anybody will give anything for him."

"I tried. Once I _did_kidnap him but….."

"But what?"

I gulped. "His teenage children saved him. Now, _that_man has power. His kids saved him. Can you believe it? Kids! If little babies can defeat me then what am I?"

Yamamoto chuckled "Well it just wasn't his kids who saved him. There was also another-"

"I don't care who it was! I'm just...defeated."

Yamamoto sat down beside me. He placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Tsuna," he whispered. "You need emotional control. You're holding back your emotions. If you had kids of your own, you'd understand what real power that spy holds. Kids can really….I dunno….change you."

I didn't reply. I leaned back and closed my eyes.

"Anyway," Yamamoto said "You should calm down. Enjoy!"

It wasn't long that he said that, there was a knock on the living room door.

"Come in," I called out.

A servant, whose name I didn't know, came in.

"Uh…sir," she said "I have a message."

"What message?" I replied.

"The men who tried to rob the bank for you…"

"Yes?"

"They….would like to talk to you…."

"Tell them I'm not paying."

"No, sir. They say they want to show you something."

"What?"

"I don't know. They said they wanted to meet you and show you themselves."

"I bet you they want to kill me."

"I don't think so, sir. They had….a bag."

"Of drugs? Of wine? Of money?"

"I don't know."borwn

"Huh. Tell them I'm with a friend. I'll meet them tomorrow."

"Yes, sir. Very good, sir."

She left the room and Yamamoto smiled.

"They're gonna kill you. Don't meet them." He said.

"Like I'm afraid," I muttered "Let's see what they have for me."

(**Commercial break: Sorry for the long dialogues! T-T)**

"This is pure gold, isn't it?" Yamamoto said, examining a decorative piece on the side table of my bed.

"Yes," I replied, looking at myself closely "How I look to you, Yamamoto?"

Yamamoto raised his head.

"Classy." He replied, smiling "You look classy. Are you planning to go to a party?"

I chuckled in reply.

"That's good," I said, turning to Yamamoto "Because I may look classy to you but I'm wearing a bullet proof jacket underneath this suit."

Yamamoto nodded.

"I still think you shouldn't go."

"They said they have something important."

"That's psychology. You use it to trick people too."

"Oh, you don't know anything about _my_job."

"Huh. Well, you're on your own, bud. I like your mansion and I'm staying here."

I shook my head and started walking out of the door.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" I called out to Yamamoto one more time.

"Sure." He called back.

"Alright then," I called back "But you are going to miss some enjoyable deaths."

"I'm a doctor, Tsuna," he replied "I watch people die every day. Most of them are usually injured, shot, beaten up, poisoned or sliced up by _you!"_

I chuckled again and left.

"So, boys," I said, standing up "What did you have to show me?"

The gang glanced at each other. Then one of them stepped forward.

"You killed our man a few days ago," he said, placing his hands in his jacket pockets "But we have something you might like. Are you interested?"

"Just show me." I snapped at him.

Two more came forward holding a big bag. I tilted my head to get a closer look but I couldn't really figure out what was inside it. The one who had talked to me before opened the zip and I peered inside. There was nothing worth my interest inside.

In it lay a young girl with short black hair and pale skin. She was unconscious. I made a face and looked up at them.

"What's _this_?" I said, pointing down at the girl.

The first man made a surprised face. Then he proudly closed his eyes and raised his nose in the air.

"This," he said, proudly "is the daughter of the country's best spy."

I raised an eyebrow.

"So?" I said.

"So? _So?_ _Don't you see it? My friend was right when he said you could take a hostage. Look at this girl! That guy would do anything to get her back!"_ he cried.

I sighed and looked down at her again. Her hair was messy and sprawled over her face. I looked at her doubtfully.

"Alright then," I replied "I'll take her."

I turned to my driver.

"Put her in the back of the car." I ordered him.

He nodded and reached out for the bag when the man stepped forward.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he said, softly "I never said I'm _giving _her to _you._But if you're interested then I could _sell _her to you for…let's say….two million dollars."

I glared at him. At that moment I just wanted to shoot him.

"It's too much," I replied through clenched teeth "I'll give you one."

"Fine, make it one and a half."

"She doesn't even look like she costs anything. You're selling me a piece of junk for _one and a half million dollars."_

"Take it or leave it." The man snapped.

I groaned and pulled out my check book, wrote down the value and threw it at him.

"Here," I said, bitterly "Now beat it!"

"Thank you for shopping with us." The man teased and they all ran off in the dark.

I sighed again and got into my limo. My driver placed the bag in the back and sat down on the driver's seat. He started the car and we were on our way home.

"I just hope that this girl is worth one and a half million dollars." I groaned.

Yamamoto leaned forward as my servant opened the bag. I crossed my arms and leaned back on the couch. The servant opened the zip and held the bag upside down.

The girl, still unconscious, fell face down on the carpet.

Yamamoto stood up and walked up to her.

"So this cost you one and a half million dollars, huh?" he said, smiling.

I groaned in reply.

Yamamoto sat down on his knees and placed a hand on her.

"She looks sick," he murmured after a while "and weak too! They've drugged her."

I pressed my lips together.

"But…" I said, standing up "She'll stay alive for a while, right?"

Yamamoto frowned.

"I'm not really sure. Her pulse rate is too slow, she is growing very weak and she has a slight fever. And to top it all, that gang drugged her, which made her condition even worse." He told me.

"I knew it. They tricked me into buying a dead body." I walked up to the girl and kicked her.

"No! What are you doing, Tsuna?" Yamamoto cried, coming between me and her "She's not dead yet but if you treat her that way then she will surely die before you get your power."

I nodded and looked down at her again.

"So what do I do with her?" I asked him.

"Well, she needs well rest and food. That'll improve her for sure."

"What about medicines?"

"No, no. I can't give her any medicines. Her body is too weak to have any. But, she does need an IV drip. Can you arrange all that for her?"

"No. I'd rather watch her die slowly."

"Well, she _is_worth a lot. You paid so much for her and you'll become ever richer when you return her to her parents."

I nodded and placed my hands in my pocket.

Yamamoto wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up. He placed her on the couch and we both bent down to look at her face. When I saw her face, I gasped.

"No!" I screamed "That's not _his _daughter. That girl doesn't even look like she's from this country! I've been deceived!"

"Calm down, Tsuna." Yamamoto cried "That's not his daughter but-"

"_But nothing!_" I screamed "I'll get those fools for tricking me. They just picked up a dying girl and sold it to me! I'll get them for this! You!" I pointed to the servant. "Pick her up and lock her away somewhere out of my sight."

With that I stormed away to my room. As I did, I could hear Yamamoto talking to the servant.

"Don't harm her," he told him "She really is very precious to that spy."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**A/N: I made Yamamoto a doctor, got a problem with that? Hmmm.**

**Now, Tsuna's we've got to see a glimpse on Tsuna's past, who do you think is the girl.? Hmmmm…**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** t(-_-t)

**Author's Note: Oya, So folks this chapter/and the chapters soon to follow, will tell some of ****Tsuna's past prior to the story line..**

**NEED BETA**

**It was narrated through Tsuna's POV**

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**Set the World on Fire**

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**Chapter 11**

**Tsuna's POV**

I woke up in the morning to hear a cooing sound outside my door.

"Wha-?" I muttered to myself, sleepily, as I got up from bed. Stretching and yawning, I went to the bathroom.

My bathroom, like every other thing I owned, was made of the finest quality. I washed and then pulled on a shirt on which a political leader had once given me in order to get his work done for him. Unfortunately, a shirt wasn't enough for me, so I rejected his plan but kept the shirt anyway.

I combed my hair and then walked outside the room. To my surprise, the cooing sound came from Yamamoto. He was already dressed and was sitting on the couch in the living room. He was holding something in his lap and was making cooing sounds to it. I tilted my head to see what it was. And then I gasped.

"Yamamoto," I screamed "What are you-"

"Oh, good morning, Tsuna," Yamamoto said cheerfully "I see you're up. Look what I have! And she's already making progress!"

"Why are you holding_that thing_in your arms?" I cried.

"Oh, her?" he replied, looking down at her "She was sick and hungry. I'm taking care of her."

"_But I want her to die."_

"What?"

_"That thing,"_I screamed, marching up the couch "_is a waste! I wasted so much money for a dead body! I…."_

I grabbed the girl in his arms and threw her on the floor.

"No!" Yamamoto screamed standing up. I raised my foot to kick her but Yamamoto grabbed me from behind.

"Stop, Tsuna. It's not her fault. She's just a child. Don't harm her!"

I turned around and glared at him.

"Oh, come on," he continued "She….she can be useful. Look at her! The poor girl hasn't even regained consciousness and you're beating her to death. She really is useful to you. Remember I told you about-"

"I don't care, Yamamoto. I wasted my money on that _ugly dead body. _She's dying. Leave her. In fact, you know what? I should get her body cut into pieces and feed them to those jerks who sold me her!"

Yamamoto gulped in reply. Then he bent down and picked up the girl again.

"Surely, Tsuna," he gasped "Surely, there must be a bit of humanity in you. This is just a child. You can't harm her. Help her, Tsuna. She needs help. I know you wanted that spy's daughter but this girl is useful too."

I stared at him. The last line had put me into shock.

"How?" I whispered in a challenging voice, bringing my face closer to his.

"If you remember closely," Yamamoto whispered in reply "the stories said that the spy's children saved him. But that's not fully true. They were merely helping another youngster save him. That person really deserved all the credit, so Gamma adopted her. She became the apple of his eye and he started loving her more than his own kids. But now….out of some weird reason….Gamma probably didn't notice or something and she was captured and then sold."

I stared at Yamamoto. Suddenly I knew what he wanted to tell me.

"This is the girl, isn't she?" I whispered in shock.

Yamamoto smiled and then nodded.

"She's waking up." Yamamoto cried, smiling.

"Why are you so excited?" I snapped in reply.

"I like her. She's nice."

"Huh."

Yamamoto had forcefully placed her on _my_ clean bed and now she was rubbing her head with _my_clean pillow. She moaned and then finally opened her eyes.

One of her dark brown eyes had a faint yellow color while the other one was pure white. Her messy hair fell over her face as she raised her head to look at us.

"Hey," Yamamoto whispered, wrapping his arms around her "You shouldn't do that. Just lie down, okay? Now that's a good girl! Now, sweetie, you're gonna be fine, okay? Okay? Just lie down and close your eyes."

The girl made a wheezing sound in reply. She looked as if she was about to cry.

"Who….." she breathed "are…..you?"

"Who? Me? I'm a doctor, honey. I won't hurt you. You'll be fine."

"What…" she whispered again and looked around the room. Then she spotted me.

"You," she whispered. "It's you…..I…you…..help."

She turned to Yamamoto and leaned against her.

"Help," she whimpered softly.

I walked over to the bed, sat down and brought my face close to hers.

"How much do you know about spying?" I asked her.

She whimpered again. "Help me." She repeated, raising her head to look at Yamamoto.

I reached out and grabbed her arm.

"He's on my side," I said, smiling "So I don't know you're getting any help for now. But if you cooperate, I just might send you back to daddy."

She gulped in reply. Her face showed that she was completely horrified.

"It's okay, dear." Yamamoto said, gently patting her back "Don't panic."

"So," I said, turning to Yamamoto "She's alright now, isn't she?"

Yamamoto looked at her closely and then shook his head.

"Judging by her figure, she is active now but her blood pressure is low and she still needs a lot of rest." He replied.

I nodded, thoughtfully.

"Do you miss daddy?" I hissed at her.

She lowered her head and didn't answer. I smiled.

"Can we please have some privacy, Yamamoto?" I asked Yamamoto, cheerfully.

Yamamoto studied me with wide eyes.

"No," he replied "She needs me. And I have a bad feeling about leaving her alone with you, Tsuna."

I chuckled in reply. "I'm not _that_evil."

"I can't leave you alone with her. You'll hurt her." Yamamoto said worriedly.

"I won't." I assured.

"Huh…alright, Tsuna. But remember….she is worth a lot. Don't kill her."

"I won't." I said. The girl whimpered as Yamamoto stood up and left the room. Then I turned back to her.

"Now," I said "What's your name?"

She pressed her lips together and didn't answer. She was trying to act brave even though she was scared to death. I moved closer to her.

"What's your name?" I repeated.

She backed away from me. I could see goosebumps appear on her arms, her skin turned paler and her breathing rate became faster.

"_I said: what's your name?"_I yelled, losing my patience.

She whimpered again and backed away even more. Tears started streaming down her face and her breathing got even faster. She was trembling.

I reached out and grabbed the collar of her shirt. I pulled her closer to me until our noses nearly touched.

"_What is your name?"_I hissed with anger. The girl made a few sounds again. She tried to pull my hand away but I was too strong. She tried to push me away but yet again, I was too strong. I tightened my grip around her collar. She gasped and then her eyes started to get droopy. Her breathing became slower and her body became limp.

I let go of her and she fell down on the bed, unconscious. I sighed and then walked out of the room to look for Yamamoto. He was sitting on the couch, reading a book.

"What's the matter?" he asked me when he saw my face.

I explained everything to him and then told him to check her again.

Yamamoto shook his head.

"Oh, Tsuna," he said "Soften up. You scared her so much that she fainted again!"

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**A/N: Tsuna you're so mean! I hate to say this but I'm scared with you. T-T**


End file.
